Order
by WrenClayton
Summary: Castiel misses the structure of Heaven, so Dean helps him out by giving him the lack of control he needs. Spoilers through Season 5 Episode 2. Consensual dom/sub play.


"You've been glum lately, angel boy."

Castiel turns his eyes slowly from the hotel window to Dean's face. "I've been cast out from Heaven," he says flatly. "Hunted by my own brothers. Would you be smiling?"

Dean presses his lips together awkwardly and turns back to unpacking his bags. It's the usual deal, check into a crappy hotel for a night or two before moving on. Only this time there's only one bed, because Sam's off soul-searching and he's pretty damn sure Castiel doesn't need to sleep.

The silence is becoming tense, so Dean tries to break it.

"I mean, yeah, I'm sure Heaven's just a barrel of fun," he begins. "But all those orders, all that red tape… never being told what the higher-ups were doing… must be nice to get away from it, hm?"

Castiel gives him another dry look. Dean spreads his hands meaningfully. "Freedom, Cas? This must be your first taste of it."

"I don't find the taste pleasant," Castiel grunts, and turns back to the window.

Dean sighs and returns to shoving his clothes in the cheap hotel dresser drawers. "Look at it this way," he tries again, "You're in control now. There's no high-and-mighty assholes making you do things and not telling you why."

"I appreciate your efforts to improve my mood, Dean," Castiel says warningly. "But your attempts are misguided. The lack of control is what I miss most."

Dean pauses, a pair of socks in his hand. "Really."

Castiel shifts uncomfortably for a few seconds, then stands up walks across the room. "In Heaven I always knew where I stood. I always had a place. There was structure, order, I… " He stopped pacing and stared at the floor. "I feel… uprooted without it. Drifting."

Dean thinks this over for a moment, then nods and throws the socks in the drawer. "And now you have to make your own choices."

Castiel's flinch is subtle, but visible. " … Yes."

"Sorry, Cas, but that's just tough. Welcome to the real world."

"Heaven is real, Dean," Castiel snaps. "And it was my world until I gave it up. For you."

Dean pauses, a belt in his hand, and lets out a sigh. The silence stretches out for a while before he can break it. "Look, Cas… I'm really sorry you had to give up your wonderful world of unexplained orders and all that. I really am. But — "

"I know. Freedom is something I'll just have to adjust to." Castiel looks away from Dean and back to the hotel window, the discomfort plain on his face.

Dean sighs loudly and throws his bag, along with the rest of the clothes, onto the floor. "All right. Enough of this. Get on the bed."

Castiel gives him a curious look. "What will that accomplish?"

"You miss orders, right?" Dean gestures with the belt in his hand. "Here's one. Get on the bed."

"You are not an angel, Dean."

"Then pretend I'm one." Dean strides over to Castiel. "I'm not going up against the wrath of Hell with an angsted-out angel as my only backup. We're going to work this out of your system right now." He presses the loop of the belt against Castiel's chin. "So for right now, it doesn't matter if I'm actually in a position to give you orders, Cas. This is about surrendering control and obeying without question. That's what you miss, right?"

Castiel's eyes dart between Dean's face and the belt, and he nods slightly.

"Good. Now get on the bed. I won't ask again."

Castiel sits down on the bed with a thump, never taking his eyes off Dean.

"Better." Dean gestures with the belt. "Lie down. Hands above your head. And shoes off first, I have to sleep there when I'm done putting you in place."

Castiel obeys like he's been waiting his whole life for permission to do so. His hands actually fumble with the laces of his shoes in his haste to get them off, and by the time he's lying down on the bed his breathing is audible. But the look in his eyes is more relaxed than Dean has seen in a while.

Dean nods to himself as he walks to the foot of the bed, eyes running over the angel. Castiel is staring with determination at the cracked ceiling, his breathing slow and deliberate. Dean slowly drags the belt up Castiel's body as he walks to the head of the bed. A small shiver runs through the angel but he doesn't move.

"Keep your hands above your head," Dean whispers. He takes the belt and uses it to tie the angel's wrists to the bars of the headboard. Castiel's eyes close and he lets out a quiet noise of bliss when Dean yanks the belt tight. When the belt has been tied off, Dean places a firm hand on the angel's chest. "Is that better? Answer."

"Yes," Castiel says breathlessly. "Yes. Thank you."

Dean glances down Castiel's body and his eyebrows purse. "Uh, Cas? Any reason you're pitching a tent?"

Castiel looks up at Dean with pure confusion.

Dean sighs and points at Castiel's groin. "An erection, angel boy. You have one. Care to explain?"

"Uh… " Castiel licks his lips before responding, his blue eyes searching the ceiling anxiously. "I suppose the vessel's body is responding to… to my positive feelings. I am under the impression that this is a positive response in the human body."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "_Yeah _it's positive."

"If it is a problem, I'm sure I can — "

"No, no, I think it means I'm doing this right." With a smile, Dean turns to his discarded clothes bag and fishes out another belt. He shakes it at Castiel. "There will be no angel-mojoing your hard-on away, got it?"

Castiel nods firmly, still staring up at the ceiling.

Dean walks back to the bed and wraps the belt around Castiel's ankles. Castiel draws in a sharp breath and almost whimpers when his legs are tied to the bars at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, you _really _like this."

Castiel nods again, his breaths coming faster. This time Dean runs his hand up the angel's body as he walks up the bed, tracing lightly over his leg, hip, stomach, and chest, coming to rest on his chin.

"Open your mouth."

Castiel obeys, and Dean slides his thumb across the angel's lips and over his tongue. There's nothing but trust in Castiel's eyes as Dean pushes his thumb in up to the knuckle. He closes his eyes and lets out a tense breath. His own pants are starting to feel a little tight. He slides his thumb out of Castiel's mouth with a sigh, dragging a trail of saliva over the angel's chin.

"Do you want me to touch you, Cas?"

Castiel swallows and shoots him a quick glance before resuming his staring contest with the ceiling. "I… I don't know, I… think I do."

Dean grabs Castiel's hair, hard. "Yes or no, Cas. Answer," he growls.

Castiel's jaw is tense with pain and his eyes are closed, but he's making noises like he's being blown. "Yes. Dean, please."

"That wasn't so hard." Without letting go of Castiel's hair, Dean loosens the angel's tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt. It's a little tricky to do one-handed, but something about grabbing Cas's obnoxiously perfect hair and messing it all up feels so damn right he doesn't want to let go.

"So, how long has it been for you?" Dean murmurs as he works apart the buttons on Castiel's shirt. "What am I dealing with here? A few centuries of blueballing? A few millennia?"

Blinking against the pain of his hair being pulled, Castiel replies, "I… I'm not sure what you're asking me, Dean."

"Sex, featherduster. How long has it been since you've gotten some?"

Castiel falls into an awkward silence. It remains unbroken when Dean has undone the last button on his shirt. Dean snorts impatiently and gives Castiel's hair a sharp yank. "When I ask a question, I want an answer."

"Technically never," Castiel admits quickly, his breath short again.

"Never?" Dean pulls his hand away from Castiel's groin as if it were about to explode. _Which it may well be. _"God, Cas. That sure explains a lot."

"It's not that I don't want to," Castiel explains, "it's just that — "

"Shut up. I didn't ask you to speak."

Castiel falls silent with a faint whimper, his chest rising and falling rapidly. _Bare chest. Hm. _ Dean runs his free hand over Castiel's chest lightly, fingers just barely touching his skin. Castiel shudders and lets out a groan.

"Is this what you want, Cas?"

" … Yes."

"That feeling of not being in control? Of having someone else calling the shots?"

"Yes. Dean, yes."

Dean stops his gentle touches and rakes his nails slowly down the angel's chest. Castiel whines but doesn't even struggle against the belts holding him in place. The look on his face is pure pleasure.

"Do you want more?"

"Yes!"

"Beg."

"Please!"

Dean runs his hand down Castiel's tense stomach to the treasure trail leading into his pants. He undoes the belt with agonizing slowness, watching the desperation on Castiel's face. When the belt is undone, he loosens the button. Pulls the zipper down. Castiel is panting, mouth parted and face flushed and eyes glazed over. His hands are shaking slightly in the belt but still he doesn't pull against it.

When Dean finally slides his hand into Castiel's pants and wraps it around his erection, the angel closes his eyes and groans pitifully. Dean's hand slides down the shaft once and it twitches.

"Hell, Cas. This won't take long at all, will it?"

He starts sliding his hand up and down and Castiel can't even form an answer through his frantic moaning. Dean can see the angel's hips shaking with desire to thrust up into his hand. He smirks and continues his slow stroking, his other hand still tight in Castiel's hair.

"This is what you needed, wasn't it?"

"Yes!" The word is a whimper, barely coherent through his breathless panting. Still stroking Castiel's erection, Dean leans down to whisper in his ear.

"Come for me, Cas. That's an order."

Castiel bites his lip on a scream and his hands clench as he shoots his load through Dean's fist, covering his stomach in messy white splatters. He gasps for air as Dean's hand slides down his shaft one more time, milking another spurt from him. Dean waits until the angel's shudders and whimpers have died down before pulling his hand away and wiping it off on a tissue from the nightstand.

"Feelin' better now, Cas?"

Castiel takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, nodding. "Yes. Thank you."

"No problem, I've been meaning to check 'jerk off an angel' off my bucket list." Dean unties the belt holding Castiel's arms in place and throws it in the drawer with his other clothes. When he turns back, Castiel hasn't moved.

"Uh…" Dean gestures. "You can stop following my orders, now."

Castiel straightens up and begins untying the belt around his ankles. Dean points a stern finger at him.

"And if anyone _ever _asks about this, it never happened."

Castiel shoots Dean a questioning glance. "Not even Sam?"

"Good god, _especially_ not Sam."


End file.
